


First Step on the Path

by Palefire73



Category: Loki - Fandom, Norse Gods - Fandom
Genre: Gen, Hints of thinking about self harm, Hope for the future, Learning to have faith, themes of depression
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-16
Updated: 2019-08-16
Packaged: 2020-09-02 11:34:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20275246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Palefire73/pseuds/Palefire73
Summary: The act of reaching out for the first time proves more than she can handle. Is it enough? Is He really there?





	First Step on the Path

**Author's Note:**

> ____________________________________________________________________________________________________________
> 
> This is full of doubt and unhappiness, and includes a hint at thinking of ending it all. If these themes are   
upsetting to you, then it might be wise to leave well alone. On the other hand, it also includes hope!  
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________

“So, how do we do this? Hail Loki?”

The question was barely audible, but it didn't matter because she knew there was no one there to hear it. At least, no one human. But in the small cramped space, lit only by candlelight, the girl kneeling before the altar she had just completed was hoping against hope that she was _not_ alone. Frowning discontentedly at the arrangement of items on the little table before her, she raised herself up and leaned forward to scrutinise each of them. _Are they all needed? Have I left anything out?_ she wondered. _He’s supposed to love it if you leave him lots of gifts…_

“Am I overfacing you, or is this just right?” She asked, this time a little louder. She pulled a face at the sound of her voice filling the empty darkness; _was it not meant to be a sign of madness, talking to yourself?_

“I’m not talking to myself!” She snapped, “Stop second guessing and doubting all of this, or He’ll never come into your life!” She shook her head, “Shit! Now I really am talking to myself.”

The flame of the orange coloured candle fluttered with her breath as she sighed, and she reached out to carefully reposition a tiny shot glass so that it was warmly illuminated in its glow. The deep brown rum – which she had found at the back of the cupboard in the corner of the room that served as a kitchenette – swirled around inside and she doubted her offerings once again.

“I couldn’t afford the whisky they recommended, Loki. I’m sorry.”

The trouble was that there was no rule book for this. There were as many methods and ideas – a lot of them based on real experiences – as there were people who had stepped onto the path she had chosen to take the first steps along. It had been a convoluted life that had brought her here: after years of being a self-described “Earthian who loves The Goddess”, she’d decided to pay attention to the god who had been lurking patiently at the periphery of her life for what seemed the longest time. Loki.

He’d always been there in one form or another, never intruding directly, rather, as an idea, a particular song, or maybe a suspicion when something went wrong in a manner that was retrospectively beneficial. She’d never thought to acknowledge it any more than a passing fancy; her gods were much more tangible in the form of the planet she lived on and the Sun and the Moon she gazed lovingly upon. But when her life had suddenly begun to unravel at breakneck speed 18 months ago, the shadowy figure that would disappear if she turned to look directly at it had nagged at her thoughts more and more often, and other signs she’d noticed seemed more poignant and matched more closely with only one deity she knew of.

Loki.

It was hard for her to accept at first; a strong organised religion had been her upbringing, followed by its denial and her subsequent conversion to loving and worshipping the natural world instead, yet both of these ideals were the grounding for a suspicion of all things… mischievous. The cautionary and, quite frankly, scary tales of the Devil and Pan and other “dark beings” throughout her childhood had left in her a resolve to leave that side of things well alone. This had meant a reasonably well-balanced life with just enough faith and devotion to fulfil her and her family’s spiritual needs without looking like a complete weirdo to their more conservative friends and relatives.

Yet for some reason, that “other” had persisted through the years lingering in the background until it had swooped down with a vengeance when her world fell apart. As her husband left her completely devastated and unable to function while he took up with someone half her age and the children had been signed over to her parents by the authorities on the grounds of neglect, the layers of happiness and confidence were stripped away one by one. The vibrant and optimistic forty-something deteriorated with each smack in the face life was giving her and the beautiful life she had enjoyed in the beautiful home took just a few months to evolve into a daily struggle to get out of the bed she slept on in a dingy basement flat. The depression her husband had left in his wake robbed her not just of her children and her job, but of her love for life too. There were many dark times where she was not convinced she ever wanted to wake up again.

“It’s not good enough. What am I doing? Is this some sort of a mid-life crisis?!” The self-accusation was whispered harshly as her eyes travelled over the offering she hoped would entice Him to communicate, “It’s a pathetic version of ‘seeing the light’. It’s no use! You’re just clutching at desperate straws in order to deny that any of it is your own fault!”

She raised her hand to swipe the contents of the altar to the floor but stopped suddenly, with her palm just a few centimetres from the candle. The low flickering flame illuminated the tiny tattoo on her wrist; it was made up of stylised intertwined letters that were the initials of her children. A sob burst from her then and she lowered her hand, ashamed that she had been about to destroy what had taken her days of agonising over to put together, just because the god they were meant for had not magically materialised as if He had dropped in for a cup of tea.

“I’m so sorry, Loki.” She wiped her eyes of the tears that had sprung up, “I can’t do this. I’m not worthy of your attention… I’m full of doubts about my reasons for this, about your existence in the first place… hardly the requirements for a devotee! Why would you bother with a mard-arsed whining middle-aged woman anyway?”

This was horrible! All the time she had spent reading about the Norse gods to try to get a better understanding of Loki and how he fitted in with the legends. All the support groups she had joined online to see if she could get some advice from long-serving practitioners about how to bridge the gap and communicate with Him, how to work with Him, what He liked His devotees to offer Him. The hollow pain in her chest that formed at the thought that she was such a rubbish choice of person to be paid attention to out of all those who were practising was almost as bad as the pain of having her family taken away. It really was just another smack in the face.

“I’m not good enough…” She drank the cheap rum, grimacing at the taste and feeling it burn its way down her throat. “I knew it wouldn’t work!” She ate the piece of dark chocolate she had placed on the altar only an hour ago and snuffed out the candle, leaving the room in almost complete darkness. Then she reached out, feeling for the Athame she’d used to split some cinnamon bark for the altar.

As her eyes adjusted to the dark subterranean room which only had a tiny window high up in one wall, she looked at the small picture she’d drawn of Loki, which formed the backdrop of the now dismantled altar. She ran her finger absent-mindedly along the blade and wondered if anyone would actually miss her if she was gone; she was no use to anyone, after all. This had been a last-ditched attempt to bring some hope into her life; the chaos had already been there for years, so accepting it and offering to open her life fully to Loki would surely invite His support and possibly even some help to rebuild? If only she were good enough. But in the same way that she felt she had failed as a wife and as a mother, she was now devastated at how bad she was at being a Lokean, even before she had truly started. The darkness – both physical and spiritual – closed in on her and the idea of checking out permanently grew inside her mind. She gripped the handle of the Athame tightly, trying to summon the courage to use it one last time, but something stopped her. Words from out of the dark, words in a voice she’d desperately hoped to hear.

“Put down the knife, pour us some rum and… let us talk of your future…”

**Author's Note:**

> Every now and again, a separate story pops into my head, in which I like to explore more "human" themes that can be Loki-centric. If you are struggling with your faith - of any god - then maybe it's time to reconnect. Turn off your phone, make some quiet time and just sit in a calm environment and have a chat with them. Tell them honestly your hopes, fears and dreams. You might not get a corporeal voice, or even one in your head, but there will be something that makes you know they're there. 
> 
> Peace, #Loki fans  
Palefire73  
x


End file.
